As expected, I will definitely have to create a post on Flyin’ Brian about how terrible the Lisbon airport is. It is inexplicably bad. But first, how did we get here? We woke up early in order to make the drive back to Lisbon for a 1:25pm flight. We still made sure to take advantage of the Hilton’s free breakfast (thanks to Nicole’s Hilton Honors Diamond status).
The little Fiat cruised effortlessly (except up hills when it could have benefitted from an extra push) down to Lisbon from Porto. We made a couple stops to top off on petrol and did it all in less than three hours. We were unable to fully take advantage of our convertible top, but such is life. The rental dropoff was seamless, but things began to fall apart onboard the airport terminal shuttle.
Our driver was pulled over by the police for unknown reasons. Everyone else in the van spoke Portuguese except for us, so the whole situation was rather unclear. Rather than let us park at the terminal so that everyone could get off and be on their way, the cop was rather insistent that we pull over at the place of his choosing. I couldn’t understand the conversation, but I got the impression that he is just a terrible person.
We arrived at a chaotic terminal with poor signage and nonexistent organization. Check in counters are reached by zig zagging around the airport, which has low ceilings and poor aesthetics. Nicole stated that she felt like she was in Port Authority in New York (not a desirable comparison under any circumstances). We were shuffled around a few different lines after being sent to one where no one was working. After finally checking in, we went through security which wasn’t terrible, but reaching it required lots of zig-zagging again. The whole airport is very badly designed. There is not a lot of open space, so everyone just kind of runs into each other.
We eventually reached our gate area by following the length of the terminal (which inexplicably had narrow bends and turns as well). After grabbing a snack at a small cafe, we waited. And then we waited some more. And only around our departure time, did boarding really occur. They called passengers with small children and priority passengers for about 25 minutes straight before letting anyone else on board. It was a packed flight, so when Nicole and I eventually got seats, they were several rows apart.
There was a lot of bizarre misunderstandings about them wanting to gate check our bags. We were absolutely fine with this, because we were boarded last and were quite sure there was no space in the overheads anyway. Nicole repeatedly asked if she was to place it at the bottom of the jetbridge or if they wanted to take it at that moment. They just kept saying, “no.” Everyone gave us a little bit of attitude despite our efforts to try and accommodate their wishes. It’s like the level of English knowledge was worse at an international airport than anywhere else we’ve been thus far. Nicole’s seat was next to a two year old girl on cocaine, and I was placed next to a man sucking his teeth, who had also taken my assigned window seat. There is a special place in hell for such people.
We touched down rather routinely, but this didn’t stop a large portion of the passengers from partaking in anxious behavior like assuming brace positions. Furthermore, many partook in the controversial and divisive act of applauding the landing. My seatmates who took my seat very promptly tried to run me over before any of the doors were actually open. It wasn’t a great introduction to Madeira.
Fortunately, this being a domestic flight, there was no disorganized customs line. We simply picked up our bags and exited without incident. We were picked up shortly thereafter by the rental car company, Centauro, same as we used from Lisbon. We were given another Fiat 500, and arrived at our new residence of 1905 Zino’s Palace some thirty minutes later, toward the western side of the island.
It was up a rather steep hill, but we find ourselves in a nice retreat, far removed from the earlier stress of air travel involving the Lisbon airport. We got situated and weren’t too keen on searching around for a place to have dinner, so reserved a time for dinner at our own hotel. In the meantime, we decided to drive a little bit up the coast and explore.
Within ten minutes, we arrived at a waterfall that actually falls over the road. We circled back around and made another stop near a small path leading up the hillside and decided to check it out. One path led through a small natural window in the rock while the other went up the opposite direction and yielded views of the coastline.
It was now getting close to time to get back for our early dinner (745pm). I ordered peixe-espada preto com banana, which is a very local dish of black scabbard fish with fried banana and passion fruit. We also ordered a bottle of wine for ourselves. The price at 12 euro seemed quite reasonable. We were shown the bottle and offered a taste like the sophisticated celebrity couple that we are.
The sun slowly began to set behind the mountains in the distance and we enjoyed the relative solitude of this area of the island. It is very relaxing. We were pleasantly surprised by the tranquility of the area considering the number of flights that land here every day.
We retired for the night for what should be a decent night’s rest. I scheduled our breakfast for 9am. After that we may make our way into the town of Funchal, to see some of the sights there. It is, however, imperative that we return to 1905 Zino’s Palace by 3pm to partake in afternoon tea, a ritual that is for some reason part of the culture of this island.
passports & pepto bismol 